Grace Returned
by auntkia
Summary: Here it is - Gracie Boscorelli's story and she's all grown up! Should read 'It Must be You' and 'Blessed' before this one.
1. Default Chapter

Disclaimer: The Third Watch characters are not mine.  
  
PROLOGUE  
  
"I hate you!" the little girl screamed at the teenage boy who stood grinning at her..  
  
The insult didn't faze the fifteen year old. He seemed to be enjoying the torture he was inflicting on the dark haired girl.  
  
Giving up her effort to inflict the same torture on the boy, Gracie Boscorelli stomped past her mother and Kim Zambrano without a word.  
  
The two mothers exchanged looks. They knew what was going on. Kim's son, Joseph Doherty, was teasing Gracie again. It has been going on for the last - oh - six years, beginning from the time they had been old enough to acknowledge the existence of the other as a nine-year-old boy and three- year- old girl. Usually they screamed at each other and then proceeded to ignore one another until the next encounter. Their parents had become experts at ignoring them when it happened.  
  
"Dare we try to figure that one out?" Sophia Boscorelli asked her friend.  
  
"I don't think we need to look too far," Kim said, watching her son. "Joseph Doherty!"  
  
Sophie watched Kim talking to her son - again. She knew no matter how much Kim and Jimmy talked to their son; and she and Bosco talked to Gracie, the two always seemed to pick at each other.  
  
She supposed it would always be that way between the two of them.  
  
*********************** CHAPTER 1  
  
FIFTEEN YEARS LATER  
  
Spying the young woman talking to his mother when he rounded the corner to the firehouse, Joseph Doherty stopped suddenly. Most likely a former patient, he thought. Sometimes they came around to offer thanks for any help that had been given. However, he thought this former patient looked pretty healthy to him. He took in her dark hair and petite stature, which, from this distance, appeared to be all female.  
  
"Son, you standin' for a reason or just enjoyin' the view?" Jimmy Doherty asked from behind.  
  
A replica of his father at the same age, the younger Doherty flashed the dimpled grin he'd inherited from this father and returned his gaze to the woman talking to his mother. "A little of both I guess."  
  
Jimmy looked past his son and let out a low whistle. "Not sure I'd go there, son."  
  
"You know who she is, Dad?" Joe asked, following Jimmy to the firehouse where they both worked.  
  
Jimmy was trying to hold back his laughter. His son had absolutely no idea. "Yeah, I know her but I'm tellin' ya not to go there."  
  
They were getting closer and Joe didn't want her to overhear him. Just in case he was supposed to know who she was. Like a dog with a bone, Joe persisted. "Who is she?"  
  
Jimmy didn't get a chance to answer.  
  
An ambulance slowed and Belle Boscorelli practically fell out the back in her rush to exit.  
  
"Gracie!"  
  
The young woman turned.  
  
Joe's mouth dropped.  
  
Jimmy let go of his amusement and had a good laugh at his son's expense. 


	2. Part 2

Disclaimer: All original characters are mine.  
  
Author's Note: Forgive me if the ages and dates of some of the characters do not seem to gel just right. Math was never my strongest subject. Just use your imagination - that's why this is called FICTION. I did the best I could in the long run as far as dates and ages goes. As for other things that may be fuzzy - patience - it will make sense. Hope you enjoy.  
  
CHAPTER 2  
  
"Why didn't you say something?"  
  
Jimmy looked at his son. "I did. I told you not to go there. You know how Bosco is with his daughters."  
  
Yes, everyone knew how Officer Maurice Boscorelli was with his daughters. Actually, all the women in his life. Protective was a mild description for starters.  
  
Watching Grace across the room, he knew why. This couldn't be the same little girl with unmanageable curls that he enjoyed teasing so much when they were younger. The little girl had grown into a beautiful woman. How long had it been? He hadn't paid much attention once he turned sixteen when his mother would mention the Boscorelli or Davis kids. How old was she now anyway? Twenty-three? Twenty-four? He watched her toss her long locks back over a shoulder and swallowed to moisten his suddenly dry mouth.  
  
Jimmy watched his son. He knew if Joe insisted on pursuing Grace Boscorelli he would have to get past her father. Everyone knew if you wanted to see a Boscorelli girl, any of the Boscorelli girls, you had to have their father's blessing.  
  
"You think she remembers me?" Joe was asking.  
  
Jimmy wondered where his son's somewhat intelligent brain was at the moment. "Son, you spent the biggest part of her childhood torturing her. I'd say the odds aren't in your favor."  
  
Joe had the decency to look like he regretted all those times.  
  
**************************************  
  
"He's watching you."  
  
Grace frowned at her sister. All she'd done since they moved into the kitchen of the firehouse was announce what Joey Doherty was doing. Personally, Grace didn't care. She just wanted him to go away. She'd caught him staring at her outside and hadn't cared for the attention. She hadn't thought Joey Doherty would still be around. All she knew was he had tortured her by his teasing when she was little; in general, making her life miserable when he was around.  
  
Besides, the man was too handsome for his own good.  
  
Belle, on the other hand, was planning her big sister's future. She saw the way Joey Doherty was watching Gracie. Oh, this was perfect. Maybe Joey could coax Gracie back into her old self. Her older sister hadn't always been so aloof - just in the last year or so. And now this sudden move back to the city.  
  
Unlike herself, Gracie had chosen to attend college at their mother's alma mater in the Midwest - a small private university - and then she had stayed in the area for two years after graduating caring for an elderly relative. Two weeks ago, Gracie had called and said she was moving back home. She missed her family. Belle had her theories on what caused the sudden change. No one else seemed to notice the change in Grace, or if they did, said nothing but Belle had spent hours with her sister. Something had happened. She would just have to find a way to get the old Gracie back. And seeing the way Joe looked at Gracie -  
  
"Taylor!" Belle's face lit at the sight of Taylor Davis, her best friend, her confidant, the love of her life, and she leapt to embrace him tightly, putting Gracie at the back of her mind for the moment. Even though it seemed the firehouse was a second home, it wasn't often that she got to see Taylor during one of his paramedic shifts.  
  
Grace hoped the envy she felt didn't show on her face. She should be used to seeing Belle and Taylor together. Even though Belle was the elder by two months, they'd practically been attached since birth. But now, watching them together made her want to wallow in self pity.  
  
"So," Taylor said, sitting at the table across from Grace. "How are the wide open spaces?"  
  
Grace smiled at his description of her home for the last six years. "Wide, open and spacious."  
  
"Sorry you came back?" he asked, stretching an arm across the back of Belle's chair.  
  
Grace shrugged in response. There are things she would miss but her family was here. And life continued.  
  
"TAYLOR!"  
  
At the shout echoing in the stairwell, Grace sensed the mood in the room change as it quickly emptied leaving Taylor, Belle, Grace and Joey.  
  
"JACKSON TAYLOR DAVIS!"  
  
Grace looked to Belle for an explanation. That was a woman's voice calling her sister's boyfriend's name.  
  
Belle was looking at Taylor, who was slowly rising from the chair he'd just taken, asking quietly, "What did you do?"  
  
Before he answered, the voice sounded again from the stairwell door. Very calmly, very menacing, and very angry. "He forgot to drop off my bag."  
  
Grace found the source of the voice and felt her breath leave her body. She was looking at a ghost.  
  
"Livvie - " Taylor began, backing away from the young woman slowly stalking him. "I-"  
  
Gracie blinked, catching her breath as Taylor's words registered. Olivia? Little Olivia Davis? Grace couldn't tear her gaze away from the irate blonde, dressed in workout clothes, hair pulled back in a ponytail, accentuating her high cheekbones and blue eyes. She looked just like her mother.  
  
"Spooky, isn't it?"  
  
Gracie turned to Joe, probably the only other person remaining in the room who remembered Olivia's mother besides herself. He caught the expression on her face and was leaning over her shoulder. At the moment, she was too stunned to mind he was invading her 'personal space'. "Yeah. For a minute, I thought -"  
  
"I know," he said before continuing to the weight room.  
  
Grace didn't need to ask for more detail; she knew.  
  
Olivia Elizabeth Davis looked just like her mother. Alexandra Taylor- Davis, one of the few female firefighters in the history of the New York Fire Department - and sometimes paramedic - had been killed in a freak explosion while working as a paramedic. Taylor had been three and a half; Olivia had been twenty months. Her death had been so shocking, it had permanently impacted everyone from Ladder 55. Grace didn't know the details of her death; at six years old, she'd only known that Alex's funeral was different than the one for Mrs. Grayson just a short time before. Maybe it was because of those left to carry on: Ty, Taylor and Olivia.  
  
She remembered MaMa, in her sadness, had told her that Alex had completed what she was put on the earth to do and God had called her home. After that, MaMa had spent a lot of time with Ty, Taylor and Olivia and Beth Taylor, Taylor and Olivia's grandma and then Taylor and Olivia had come to live with the Boscorelli family for a while in the huge, historical home they had inherited from Mrs. Grayson and had moved into just weeks before Alex left them.  
  
Grace blinked the moisture from her eyes and brought herself back to the present. She hadn't thought about Alex in years. Seeing Olivia had brought back all her memories.  
  
" 'Livia," Belle was saying in an attempt to calm Olivia's fury. She had placed herself between her boyfriend and his sister who looked as if she could bite nails in half.  
  
"Don't even try to protect him, Belle," Olivia interrupted. "Do you know what was in that bag?"  
  
"Your college applications that were mailed an hour ago?"  
  
Olivia turned at the source of the statement - her father.  
  
Sargent Ty Davis held his daughter's bag out to her. The years had been kind to the tall, handsome officer despite the tragedies he'd suffered - primarily, the loss of his wife sixteen years ago. Grace marveled at his strength. He had lost his wife and devoted himself to raising their children. Grace wondered if he had ever considered remarrying. But then, to her knowledge, he had never dated since Alex's death.  
  
"Thank you, Daddy," Olivia said, sweetness and smiles, as she took her bag from her father's outstretched hand and stood on tiptoe to kiss his smooth shaven cheek. Her temper seemed to have cooled significantly in the last ten seconds. "I'm gonna run upstairs and change."  
  
Ty watched his daughter bound up the stairs. The same stairs her mother used to run up. She was so much like her and yet so different. Where Alex was never one to use her femininity to make a point or prove something, Olivia didn't hesitate. However, Olivia was just as strong and independent as her mother, if not more so. Ty supposed he'd spoiled his daughter, she'd not even been two when Alex was taken from them, and as she got older and resembled Alex even more, well, - she was her mother's daughter - not only in appearance but in action. Even Alex's mother, Beth, remarked once that if it were not for Olivia's total disregard for anything remotely tomboyish, she'd swear she was seeing her daughter all over again.  
  
"Dad," 'Taylor was saying, Belle at his side. "I didn't forget on purpose."  
  
"I know, don't worry about it. You know your sister," Ty said, answering his son, his gaze moving around the room. "Grace! When did you get back?"  
  
Grace stood to embrace him. "Daddy picked me up a couple of hours ago."  
  
Hearing the click of high heels on the stairs, Ty's attention was drawn to the staircase. His daughter had returned. Gone were the workout clothes and ponytail; a blonde bombshell had taken her place. "Where do you think you're going?"  
  
Olivia looked at her father as she came down the stairs.. "Kylie and I are going to dinner. I told you that earlier, remember?"  
  
"Not dressed like that, you're not," Ty informed her. He was in denial that his little girl was growing up. And knowing what it was like to be a young man didn't care to have his baby drawing any male attention.  
  
"Kylie?" Carlos asked, having wandered through and hearing his daughter's name. "My Kylie?"  
  
"You know any other Kylies?" Olivia asked rudely before turning her attention back to her father. "What's wrong with what I'm wearing?"  
  
Ty looked at the dusty blue pants and top. Nothing was wrong with the outfit, exactly, except that the jersey knit fabric clung to her in all the places Ty would prefer nothing would cling to. He supposed she looked pretty damn good to some young stud but this was his baby. He was her father and supposed to protect her from that sort of scum. "Apologize to Carlos. As for your outfit - it's just - it's - Kim?"  
  
Kim had entered the room moments before and witnessed the exchange between father and daughter. She had periodically stepped in the role of mother to Olivia after Alex's death but her experience didn't include raising daughters; many issues that had come up had been referred to Sophie, whose experience with girls far outweighed her own. "I thought she looked pretty cute."  
  
Olivia beamed victoriously.  
  
That was not the answer Ty was looking for. Thankful to see Sophie and the youngest Boscorelli, five-year old Hope, appear at the top of the stairs, he promptly enlisted her help only to be met with a second disappointment.  
  
"Ty, there's nothing wrong with what she's wearing," Sophie said gently, dropping motherly kisses on her own daughters' cheeks before turning to Olivia, kissing her cheek and handing her a hair clip. To some degree, she had considered Olivia to be one of her own daughters since Alex's passing. "You should pull your hair up, dear."  
  
Ty knew he'd lost as he watched his daughter pull the sides of her long blond curls up, securing it at the crown, leaving the rest to stream down her back. "Okay, but will you wear a jacket?"  
  
"Daddy," Olivia said, tilting her head at him in a way that said 'I'm not a little girl anymore.' Turning to Carlos, she apologized for her earlier rude remark before descending the stairs.  
  
Sophie watched Ty stare after her. "She's beautiful." Ty shook his head as if to clear it. "Thanks. Ya know, she's just - "  
  
"-like her," Sophie finished softly, as she followed Ty into the main room to await the arrival of her husband. Neither had to elaborate on who 'her' was.  
  
Feeling restless and a little like an outsider, Grace made her way downstairs. She saw Olivia staring at the case that held photographs of all those lost in the line of duty. "Olivia?"  
  
"I always have to look when I'm here," she quietly explained. Her blue gaze was trained on the photograph of her mother in her formal fire uniform. The only woman pictured. "Do you remember her?"  
  
"A little, yes," Grace answered. She couldn't imagine how Olivia must feel. She had her mother; Olivia had never known hers.  
  
"What was she like?"  
  
Grace felt odd being questioned about Alex. Olivia should be asking her father or Kim or Sophie or even her grandmother about her mother. And yet seeing mother in daughter, she could guess why Olivia hadn't asked any of those people about her mother. "She would always play with me; although sometimes I'm not sure she was comfortable playing dolls and tea parties. She was funny, and kind and -"  
  
"And beautiful," Olivia interrupted dryly, turning her blue eyes to Grace. "I mean - oh - I don't know."  
  
"You look like her," Grace said quietly. And she did. Olivia had the same clear blue eyes, blond curls and slim build. And the same 'You can't tell me what I can and cannot do' attitude that got her mother on the New York Fire Department.  
  
"Yes, I know. I know every time I come here, every time Daddy looks at me, every time I'm at Grandma's. I look like my dead mother - the famous Alex Taylor." Olivia thrust out her chin defiantly. In the exact manner her mother used when her guard went up. Olivia's gaze met Grace's, continuing more calmly, "It's been almost sixteen years. Sometimes, I think I remember her - little snippets - blue eyes, slightly off-key singing. You know I don't even know how she died? Only that there was an explosion."  
  
"I'm sure MaMa would tell you anything she could if you asked her," she suggested, feeling the need to try and soothe her young friend's mind.  
  
Walking with Grace to the open garage door, Olivia saw Kylie getting out of a cab and waved. Although there were several years' age difference between the two young women, their shared interest in law more than made up for it. "There's Kylie; I gotta go. Thanks, Grace. It's good to have you back."  
  
Looking around, Grace spied her brother leaning against one of the parked ambulances watching the traffic. And watching Olivia Davis cross the street to meet her friend. Was she seeing things? Jackson and Olivia? That's something she didn't expect. "Hey, little brother."  
  
He straightened and averted his gaze at the sound of her voice. "Hey. Didn't know you were there."  
  
She bit back a grin. "She's something."  
  
Jackson didn't need to ask who she was talking about. "Yeah."  
  
"Why don't you ask her out?" Grace suggested. Just because she had sworn off any romantic relationships, didn't mean she couldn't encourage others.  
  
"She's not interested," Jackson answered.  
  
"And you know this because -"  
  
"Because I know," Jackson concluded.  
  
Gracie resisted the urge to thump some sense into her baby brother's thick skull. Instead, she only stated. "You should ask her," as she saw her father pull up in his RMP across the street effectively cutting off any further discussion. It was unspoken in the family that arguments were always quickly resolved. Life was hard enough; disagreements only made it worse. If you couldn't let the issue go, then you secluded yourself until you calmed down enough to approach it reasonably.  
  
Greeting her father, Gracie realized how much she had missed her family. And how fortunate she was to have their support. They didn't know it but it was the one thing that was getting her through this.  
  
CHAPTER 3  
  
Grace sat on the swing in the backyard of the Boscorelli home watching Taylor and Belle entertaining Hope. It was a given that they would marry one day. Tears welled up to blur her vision. Why did everything have to change? But then Gracie had never handled change very well. She felt lost.  
  
She understood Aunt Millie moving in with her dear friends Beatrice and Esther. It would have happened when Jonathan proposed anyway.  
  
If he had proposed.  
  
Grace immediately put the brakes on that particular subject. No one except Aunt Millie had even known about Jonathan. Grace had never mentioned him to MaMa and Daddy. Knowing her father's protectiveness, she had thought to see exactly how far things progressed before introducing them. Which was fortunate for her. She didn't have to deal with the 'what happened' questions now.  
  
Her thoughts were interrupted by Hope's squeal at Sully's arrival.  
  
Grace smiled a greeting for the man she and her siblings referred to as their 'New York Grandpa'.  
  
At almost seventy, retired cop John Sullivan had been adopted by the Boscorelli and Davis families and was frequently included in family celebrations. This time was no different.  
  
They were celebrating the prodigal daughter's return home. Although Gracie would have preferred to return to New York and resume her life quietly. Whatever that consisted of.  
  
But MaMa insisted this little get together had been planned long before Gracie had announced the move and Gracie had known better than to argue with her mother over the fact that she'd now been home over a week with no hint of any long term party plans.  
  
So here she was.  
  
She wanted to excuse herself and retreat to her room but felt that burden that comes to everyone - responsibility. She had to stay. She was the guest of honor. Sort of.  
  
Sully lowered himself next to her, muttering, "It's good to have you back, Gracie."  
  
She smiled. Genuinely smiled at him. Her Grandpa Sully wouldn't be asking her twenty questions. He was one of the few people who could just sit in another's presence and not have the need to fill the silence.  
  
Apart from MaMa and Daddy, that is, she thought to herself, amending, Before they had four children. And then decided to adopt the fifth.  
  
She and Sully sat watching the guests arrive. Although she wasn't sure 'guests' was the right work to use. D.K., Walsh, Jimmy, Kim, Carlos, Faith, and the list went on - were pretty much considered extended family by Sophie and treated as such.  
  
Her gaze wandered back to her siblings and what she termed as 'the younger generation' - those who hadn't been at the 55 for as long as she could remember but were friends of Belle, Taylor and Jackson. Gracie recognized a few but most were strangers to her. Even though this was and would always be home, she had spent the past six years away from here except for the few days she returned for holidays and short trips to visit. It was strange; this time of finding herself again.  
  
Gracie glanced at Sully. He looked melancholy staring at different parts of the garden that surrounded him.  
  
"You miss her, don't you" Grace wasn't sure why she felt compelled to ask what she already knew.  
  
Sully's attention remained on the roses along the edge of the fence. He didn't need to ask who Gracie was referring to. He missed Elenor Grayson every day. She and Sully had been introduced at Bosco and Sophie's wedding and become very close friends after Ty and Alex had married. Oh, Ty was still his best friend but marriage and children tended to change a man even though Ty and Alex had always welcomed him into their home and he was considered 'Grandpa' to Taylor and Olivia and Sully had been there for Ty when Alex had been killed. But Elenor - Elenor was a stubborn, pushy, overbearing, loving and beautiful woman who'd also lost her husband quite some time before they met. They'd quickly formed a bond. He had been one of the few people who knew about her illness before she'd been homebound - too ill to go out much. "Yes, Gracie, I miss her."  
  
Grace heard the sadness in his voice. "Did you love her?'  
  
Sully smiled at the young woman. He wasn't surprised at her boldness. "Yes, I did."  
  
"But you never married," Grace felt compelled to point out.  
  
"No, we didn't," Sully felt the need to continue. It was rare that he discussed his personal life with anyone. "Elle and I never felt it was necessary. We loved each other, true, we just never thought about it. I don't know - maybe we were too set in our ways to consider marriage."  
  
Gracie listened as he spoke, waiting for some nugget of wisdom.  
  
"Grace, what happened?" He asked suddenly.  
  
"What do you mean?" She should have known. She knew very well what was going on. Anytime someone thought Grace was troubled, they called in Sully to talk to her.  
  
He gave a short laugh. "What do I mean? Gracie, come on, it's me."  
  
Gracie gave up. She never could act. Especially with Sully. "I'm just feeling a little lost, Sully. I'll be fine."  
  
He didn't really think that was everything. He'd been a cop too long to ignore his instincts. But he knew not to push Grace. That usually resulted in her pulling further away, so he let it go. "Alright Gracie have it your way."  
  
Relieved he let her be, Gracie kissed his cheek as Hope yelled for them that dinner was ready and to hurry up before disappearing through the throng of people.  
  
"Guess she's letting us know she's ready to eat," Sully commented, tickled over the antics of the tiny 5-year old at the same time having flashbacks. Now that he'd seen her, he saw the change Belle had hinted at. As a child, Gracie was just as precocious as Hope. Now as a beautiful young woman, that precocious spark was gone.  
  
"I don't think I was ever allowed to get away with something like that at her age," Gracie noted, walking with Sully to the food-laden buffet.  
  
Reminded of a certain wedding he attended when she was barely a year old, Sully had to laugh. "Gracie, you got away with that and a lot more, I promise."  
  
**************************  
  
Gracie was enjoying herself. She had endured the round of hugs from her long-time friends and been introduced to those she didn't know and now sat on the swing observing the goings on around her.  
  
And then she spied Joey Doherty.  
  
He must have just arrived. She didn't remember seeing him earlier. And she didn't want to see him now. Maybe he hadn't seen her. Silently, she crept to the edge of the garden, making her way to the French doors without being seen. She was almost home free.  
  
"You're not even going to talk to me?"  
  
Recognizing that voice, Gracie paused in her retreat with her hand on the doorknob. She was being rude. It went against the way she was brought up - the shame of her behavior caused her to turn. "Good evening, Mr. Doherty. Please enjoy yourself."  
  
Joe didn't know whether to laugh or shake her. She obviously hadn't forgotten him! "Fine Grace, when you decide to join the rest of us peons, let, me know." Shocked at his remark, Gracie managed to close her mouth, then replied, "Are you insinuating something?"  
  
He took a step closer. Too close in Grace's opinion.  
  
"Let's just say I'd be curious to know - what does it feel like to walk on water?"  
  
His implication wasn't lost. "I never said I was perfect!"  
  
"You didn't have to, Grace," he said over his shoulder. He'd let her cool down and try again later. Maybe.  
  
Feeling chastised, Grace was silent. Did she really come off that way? Or was it just Joey Doherty that brought it out in her?  
  
Just walk away, the voice in her head warned. Get as far away from Joey Doherty as you can.  
  
And she did. Quickly.  
  
CHAPTER 4  
  
Grace glanced at her watch. Again. Where was Belle? She had to show up soon - it was almost time for Taylor's shift to start and, according to MaMa, Belle always met him before then. She resumed staring out the window. If she wasn't here in five minutes -  
  
"There you are," Taylor's voice floating down the staircase interrupted her mental tirade. "Belle just called. Said to tell you it looks great and she'll meet you at home."  
  
Grace rolled her eyes. This had to stop. She's been back for almost three months now and Belle was finding every excuse in the book to get her to the firehouse when Joey was supposed to be there. Thankfully, the engines had been out when she arrived. Where did Belle get the idea that she was interested in Joey or vice versa? Grace wasn't sure she even wanted to see anyone on a romantic level anyway. She picked up her bag and turned to leave. "Thanks, Taylor."  
  
"Wow," was his response as he finally trained his attention on her. "You cut your hair."  
  
Self-conscious, Grace attempted without success to brush a few too-short locks behind her ear. It had been a long time since her hair was so short. "Yeah." "It looks great," he said, still staring at her in surprise.  
  
Grace smiled her thanks at the compliment and turned to leave. She was met with a smokey-smelling solid wall of firefighters tromping upstairs. When had they gotten back?  
  
Great, just what she needed - fourteen men coming off an adrenaline high.  
  
Maybe they wouldn't notice her. She was petite and quiet and could manage to leave a room with no one the wiser.  
  
Sure. Right.  
  
"Hey, Gracie," Jimmy greeted, noticing her right off, then, "You cut your hair!"  
  
What was it about her hair? So she cut it. Lots of women kept their hair short. Okay, so she'd had more than twelve inches chopped off all at once. So? Remembering Jimmy had spoken to her, she gave the same response as she'd given Taylor. "Yeah. Decided it was time."  
  
Sort of. She wasn't about to admit she'd been so stupid as to grow her hair out to begin with because a man preferred to be seen with a woman who had long hair. She'd always preferred to keep it cut short and not spend much time on it. Then she'd met Jonathan.  
  
"It looks great," Jimmy replied, quickly adding, "Not that you didn't look great the other way. That is -"  
  
Grace didn't bother to hide her smile. She'd heard stories of Jimmy getting himself in hot water with the women in his life using his vocabulary - and more. "Thanks, Jimmy. I have to run."  
  
She was still grinning when she ran into Joey at the bottom of the stairs. She had had encounters with him since the night of her homecoming, mostly arranged by Belle. They'd been kept short and civil. She still thought he was too handsome for his own good.  
  
It took Joe a moment to realize just who he'd almost trampled. "Grace - your hair! I-"  
  
This was getting insane! Grace lost what little patience she had. "I cut it! So what? What is it with everyone. People do cut their hair!"  
  
"I just -" Joe tried to explain, backing up to let her through.  
  
"It'll grown! I just like it short. And another thing, just because I prefer to keep it short doesn't mean I'm any less feminine because of it. If you like long hair so much, grow your own out and deal with it!"  
  
Having finished her unreasonable outburst, she turned, leaving a confused Joey to stare after her.  
  
"What," came a voice next to Joe. "Was that?"  
  
"Yeah, Joe, what'd you do?" A second voice chimed.  
  
Joe tore his gaze away from Gracie turning the corner to address his best friends, Ian Russell and Cole Gentry. "Got me. All I did was try to apologize for running over her."  
  
Ian laughed. "Let me rephrase: WHO was that?"  
  
"Grace Boscorelli."  
  
"As in - "  
  
"Bosco's daughter," Joe confirmed. "Belle's sister. She's the oldest."  
  
"I didn't know she was such a babe. Where's she been?" Cole questioned, heading upstairs. "You need to introduce me."  
  
Joe gave his friend a push up the stairs, laughing at the thought of how Gracie would react to Cole. Cole was the resident 'ladies' man.' "Grace - a babe? Shrew is more like it?"  
  
"Maybe she just hasn't met the man that can handle her yet," Cole grinned. No woman could resist a fireman.  
  
"And your ugly face is gonna do that?" Ian commented.  
  
"Well, yours won't."  
  
Joey listened to his friends with half an ear. Cole was the last thing Gracie needed. He was a great guy - Joe wouldn't want anyone else but Cole and Ian covering his back but neither was right for Grace Boscorelli. And Ian was practically engaged.  
  
Unless he'd misread the signs, Gracie had been hurt - badly - and was to be handled carefully.  
  
No, Cole wasn't for Grace. At all.  
  
*******************  
  
CHAPTER 5  
  
Gracie answered the door and frowned. What was he doing here?  
  
"Who is it, Grace?" Sophie called over the bannister.  
  
"It's me, Sophie,"Joe answered stepping around Grace into the gaily decorated foyer. Christmas was definitely celebrated in the Boscorelli home if the decorations were any indication, he thought, looking around the spacious home. Evergreen, ivy and holly seemed to be everywhere decorated with touches of gold, silver, pinks and lavenders. Joey was reminded of pictures of period homes decorated similar to this.  
  
"Joe, so glad you could accompany us tonight. Grace will show you into the morning room. We shouldn't be too long. Taylor and Belle are somewhere around also. Hope, dear, stop twirling your hair," Sophie abandoned her role as invisible hostess to Grace in order to finish getting her younger children ready to go.  
  
Grace wanted to escort her guest. Right out the door and off the nearest cliff. However, once again her upbringing left her little choice but to show Joe to the morning room as she'd been instructed. She loved Christmas. Since coming home, she'd practically been counting down the days until tonight. Attending the ballet was a long-standing tradition of the Boscorelli family and one she never missed. It was one of those times that the family really dressed up and enjoyed themselves.  
  
Watching Joe lower himself to the sofa, Grace knew Belle had taken it upon herself to invite him as Grace's 'guest'. She just wanted to know why he had accepted. The ballet didn't seem to be his first choice of entertainment.  
  
And who knew that a tuxedo could look so - well - well- yummy - on Joey Doherty?  
  
Joe was making an effort not to stare. How had he ever saw this woman as anything other than beautiful. She had gathered her short curls at the crown with rhinestone hairpins, leaving the shorter ringlets to dangle around her face. She wore a long sleeve, deep plum satin dress trimmed in black lace and jet beading that fit snug from the neck through the bodice and fell into the full skirt. Joe thought the color of the dress was a stunning contrast to her porcelain complexion and swallowed when she turned her back to him to adjust an ornament on the massive Christmas tree before the window. While the bodice front revealed nothing, it was deceiving in the modesty of the dress. The back was asymmetrically cut very low, revealing her bare back and clutched with a velvet bow at the side of her tiny waist, the ends left to trail down over the gathers at the back of the skirt. Joe thought he'd never seen anything more sensually feminine.  
  
"Joe!"  
  
Startled back to his senses - and manners - Joe turned to seen the only son of Sophie and Maurice Boscorelli toss his tuxedo jacket over the back of a chair before taking a seat across from Joe. The seventeen year-old had inherited his mother's temperament and his father's looks. Although Joe thought having two older sisters and two younger sisters might have had something to do with the former.  
  
"You Gracie's date?" He asked, grinning and glancing at his older sister.  
  
"He's not my anything!" Grace answered angrily before Joe could answer.  
  
Jackson stared at his oldest sister, who was doing a slow boil. With four sisters, he'd long ago become used to the mood swings that seemed to run rampant in the house and learned to pay them no mind. "Mom wanted you upstairs. Something about getting Hope's hair done."  
  
Thankful for a reason to leave Joey's presence, Grace headed for the door. "You need to find Taylor and Belle. Daddy's going to want to leave or we're going to be late.  
  
Joe watched her leave unaware that Jackson was watching him.  
  
"So, are you?" Jackson asked, adding. "Grace's date, that is."  
  
Joe grinned. "Not sure if 'date' is the right word. Belle asked if I would come and keep Taylor company. I was off tonight, so why not?" He refrained from mentioning it was a great way to see Grace.  
  
"Great, you're here!" Belle exclaimed from the entry where she stood with Taylor.  
  
Before he could answer, he heard the muffled thump-thump-thump of someone hopping down the carpeted staircase.  
  
"Careful, Hope."  
  
The little girl turned at the sound of her father's voice behind her as she came to a halt at the bottom.  
  
Maurice Boscorelli reached the bottom of the staircase and, adjusting his tuxedo jacket, surveyed those gathered in the entry, counting who was missing from his family. "Soph, we gotta go!"  
  
No sooner had he given the order than the remaining three Boscorelli women, Sophie, Grace and Claudia Rose, all dressed in their finery, hurried down the steps.  
  
Grace pointedly ignored Joe as he tried to help her with her coat. She was determined to ignore him and enjoy her evening.  
  
Unfortunately, it didn't go as she had planned.  
  
Upon arrival, Hope announced she had to 'go'. Now.  
  
Grace didn't miss the mental exasperation flash through Sophie's eyes as Hope proceeded to start the 'potty' dance. Quickly, she handed her coat to Jackson and took her little sister's hand. "I'll take her, MaMa. We'll meet you in the box."  
  
Arriving moments before the lights flashed signaling the beginning of the ballet, Grace arrived to discover the only available seats left in the box were by Claudia Rose, which Hope promptly claimed, and Joe. Grace felt like she'd been betrayed by her own family. No one said anything as she sat as far as she could from the man and still share the small upholstered settee with him.  
  
The music began, the lights dimmed, and Gracie was able to forget, for a time, that she strongly disliked the handsome man next to her.  
  
*********************************  
  
Grace, still keyed up from the ballet, hung back as everyone piled into the car. "I'm going to walk a bit, MaMa. You all go on; I'll get myself home."  
  
Sophie exchanged glances with her husband.  
  
"I'll see she gets home safe," a voice interrupted from behind.  
  
Bosco looked first at Joe, then his wife, who nodded. "Fine."  
  
"I don't need a sitter," Grace protested, having seen the glances her parents exchanged.  
  
"Gracie, precious, have you forgotten? This isn't the Midwest," Sophie gently reprimanded. "I only want you safe."  
  
In truth, she had forgotten. A little. She didn't go out much at night and if she did, it was with Belle or someone. Grace gave in. She loved her parents too much to cause them worry just because she was being stubborn. "All right, ,MaMa. I won't be long and I'll be quiet when I come in."  
  
"Where would you like to go?" Joe asked as the car pulled away from the curb.  
  
Pulling her coat together at the neck, she started strolling down the sidewalk, leaving Joe to follow. "I just want to take the city in. It seems so different at this time of the year."  
  
Joe didn't have to ask what she meant. There was a special air that fell over the city at Christmas.  
  
They walked in silence for a time; Grace's heels clicking on the concrete mixing with the car horns and sirens that echoed occasionally. The lights from various storefront decorations lighting their way.  
  
"Would you like to go window shopping?" His voice cut through the night as he took her elbow to assist her through a rough area of the sidewalk when her heel caught.  
  
She felt her heart pickup and tucked her head down, reaching behind her to pull the hood up over her head. She hoped he didn't notice her sudden nervousness. He was a handsome man, she'd admit that, but she also knew he had women throwing themselves at him. For her, that was cause enough for concern about any attraction she felt toward him. She didn't think she could take a second disappointment. Ever.  
  
Joe watched the graceful young woman at his side. She had yet to answer his impulsive suggestion. She pulled the hood up over her head and turned her face up to his. He was going to have a hard time deciding when she looked more appealing: earlier that night or now.  
  
Her cheeks had turned rosy with the cold. Her dark eyes glistened, reflecting the Christmas lights from the street. She reminded him of a time in history when women didn't expect to be treated equal to a man. They expected - and were given- treatment higher than a man.  
  
"Thank you. I'd like that." Her voice was softer - more sincere- than he'd 'ever heard it.  
  
Remembering what he'd said, Joe hailed a cab. Before she knew it, he was assisting her out of the car across from the Plaza Hotel.  
  
"Shall we?" He asked, circling her arm with hers and holding it there with his other hand.  
  
Preoccupied with his action, Grace stammered out a response and allowed him to lead her down the street. She wondered at the kind of picture they must have made, both of them dressed so formally.  
  
"You look nice tonight, by the way," he said as they paused to cross the street.  
  
"Thank you. You look nice, too." She tucked her head further into her hood. It was hard to tell if he were sincere or just being polite. Unless it was sincerely given, she didn't care for compliments and right now she couldn't tell if Joe were being sincere or just making conversation.  
  
Uncomfortable with the sudden intimacy that had developed between them, Grace pulled away from his touch, stuffing her hands in her coat pockets. This was a new development. She was ready to go home and get some perspective. Yet, she wanted to stay with him just a bit longer.  
  
Joe interpreted her stance and assumed the cold had finally gotten to her. "You're cold. Why don't we come back another night?"  
  
Grace would have agreed to just about anything. She was cold; that was true. But it was his presence that was setting her on edge, she admitted to herself watching Joey hailing a cab.  
  
The cab waited while he walked her to the door. She unlocked it before turning back to Joe. He was smiling just enough to show his dimples. And standing a bit too close. With a start, Grace realized he looked like he wanted to kiss her. The thought wasn't unappealing.  
  
He was moving closer.  
  
He was going to kiss her.  
  
She panicked.  
  
"Thank you." She blurted, reaching for the doorknob. "It was nice."  
  
Joe blinked. He had wanted to kiss her. But before he could, she had let herself in.  
  
He was now staring at the heavy oak door. Alone. 


	3. Part 3

CHAPTER 6  
  
Grace was fighting with the garland hanging from the chandelier when she heard the knock on the door. Blowing a curl out of her eyes, she descended the ladder to answer. Her parents and younger siblings had decided to visit Grandma Rose for the weekend. She, however, had felt the need for solitude and managed to get out of going with them. Living with Aunt Millie for so long she had learned to love the times when she was completely alone. Especially in the last few months before returning to New York. She didn't know of anyone who would be stopping by.  
  
She definitely didn't expect to see Joey Doherty when she opened the door.  
  
She hadn't talked to him in several weeks, since the night of the ballet. When he'd tried to kiss her. And she'd panicked and slammed the door in his face. She'd been careful that they were never alone on the few occasions they'd been at the same place. While she'd not spoken to him, he'd never been far from her thoughts, which didn't exactly set well with her.  
  
"Hi."  
  
Grace remained silent, neither opening the door wider to invite him in nor closing it. A cold gust of wind sent her further behind the door seeking warmth.  
  
"Can I come in?" He was hunched down into his coat, his bag hanging over his shoulder.  
  
She almost refused. But common sense won out. He didn't look like he was going to leave without talking to her and standing with the front door open in twenty degree weather wasn't going to accomplish anything. Silently, almost hesitantly, she opened the door allowing him entrance.  
  
Joe looked at the mounds of boxes scattered about the usually spotless foyer. What was she doing?  
  
Grace caught his expression. "Excuse the mess."  
  
"What is going on?" He asked, following her in the front room where they'd waited the night of the ballet. The "Morning Room."  
  
Wanting to help out at home since she wasn't working, Grace had undertaken the day-long plus task of taking down and packing up the Christmas decorations throughout the Boscorelli home. A feat in itself when being done by one person. "Taking down the Christmas decorations."  
  
She stood beside the ladder occupying the center of the room, one hand on the upper rungs. "Are you here for any particular reason?"  
  
Joe tried to contain his grin. And failed. You couldn't accuse Grace of beating around the bush. When she wanted to know something, she didn't waste time. "I came to see you." Uncomfortable, she shifted her stance, glancing at the floor and back at him. "Why?"  
  
It was Joe's turn to be uncomfortable. He'd been haunted by the night of the ballet. When he tried to kiss her and she'd rushed off - almost terrified at the action. In some way, he felt he owed her an apology. "I wanted to make sure you were okay. I know I was a bit forward the night of the ballet and -."  
  
"I'm fine," she interrupted, not liking the direction the conversation was taking. She'd thought way too much of Joey Doherty since that night anyway. "Are you finished?"  
  
Joe wasn't so sure about the 'fine' part. "Are you trying to get rid of me?"  
  
Yes. "No, I just have a lot of work to get done before everyone gets back tomorrow."  
  
He looked around, focusing on the ladder obviously in use. "You're the only one here?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"And you're climbing on that thing?" He indicated the tall ladder.  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Grace!" He couldn't believe this. What if something happened?  
  
"What?" What was he getting so testy over?  
  
"What if you fell?"  
  
"I'm not going to fall," she said rolling her eyes and ushering him toward the door. She wasn't incapable of climbing a ladder. She wasn't wild about climbing a ladder either; she preferred to stay on the ground but sometimes you didn't get what you wanted.  
  
"And you know this how?" Joe asked sarcastically, following her to the foyer. He looked around. No way was Grace going to get all this done by herself. And no way was she getting back on that ladder when she was alone in the house. He could just see her falling and getting hurt. Or worse. "You want some help?"  
  
Grace paused in the act of opening the front door for him. She would love help. Would she love help from Joey Doherty? How long was she going to get to think on that one? She glanced back at him. He did have a point about the ladder. "You want to stay here and help me put away Christmas decorations?"  
  
Though it was phrased as a question, Joe heard the sarcasm in her tone. He grinned. He wasn't leaving if she was getting back on that ladder and he made sure she knew it. "Sure."  
  
She closed the door and started back to the morning room. She wasted enough time arguing with him. She had better things to do. If he wanted to stay, let him. She strolled to the ladder and started up again. Only this time, eager to prove him wrong, she went a little too quickly and ended up tripping on one of the rungs, narrowly catching herself from sliding - or falling- down.  
  
'Okay, that did it,' She heard before feeling a strong arm circle her waist and lift her clear of the ladder, before setting her down on the oriental carpet.  
  
She whirled to face Joe, who was at present, hovering over her. "Don't you tell me what I can and cannot do, I-"  
  
"I don't want to tell your parents that you were killed because you were too stubborn to let me help you!" He roared back at her. The image of her losing her balance on the ladder was still fresh in his mind - complete with an ending of her laying unconscious in the remains of the antique coffee table setting next to the base of the ladder. He got control of his temper before continuing, "I'll do any ladder climbing that needs to be done. You keep your feet on the ground, got it?"  
  
Stunned, Grace nodded. What just happened? She held the ladder steady as Joe started up.  
  
"Oh, and Grace?"  
  
She looked up. He was grinning again.  
  
He glanced at her tiny, bare feet. " Put some socks on - it's twenty degrees outside; you're going to get sick."  
  
Unable to think of a proper comeback, she stuck her tongue out at him, which earned her nothing more than that irritable grin of his.  
  
They worked all day, various music keeping them company, exchanging questions and answers about what went where. After continuously 'suggesting' she put on socks, she explained she didn't like to wear socks or shoes when she was in the house. She hadn't always been like that but once she got used to it, she couldn't go back. Besides, she'd never gotten sick before from running around barefoot, so it wasn't likely to start now - so, shut -up about it.  
  
On his last trip up to the attic with a box, he saw light coming from the end of the hall. The ballroom, he thought, remembering Grace's reference to it when he followed her up to the attic earlier. Closing the door to the attic, he went to investigate. And see if that's where Grace disappeared to.  
  
Joe stood half-hidden in the doorway. It wouldn't have mattered if he hadn't stayed in the shadows. Gracie was so lost in the music, she would have had to collide with him to see him.  
  
This was a Gracie he'd not seen. So this was how she expressed herself, he thought. She looked beautiful. Except for the demons haunting her.  
  
Her eyes held an anger and sadness that reflected the words in the music.  
  
**-What is - what is this- this mess of my existence-**  
  
He wasn't sure how long he stood watching her dance. She didn't dance just one style he noted. Instead, she used several - ballet, hip hop, belly dancing and others Joe didn't know about. If someone else had done what Gracie did, Joe didn't think it would look the same but Gracie made it flow; made it part of her that mesmerized.  
  
The music ended. Grace held her final pose: head thrown back, arms outspread, back curved at an impossible angle which only an experienced dancer could obtain. Straightening, she stared at herself in the mirror lining the bigger part of a wall before moving to the CD player.  
  
"How long have you been there?" She asked, seeing him leaning against the door frame. She hadn't danced before anyone in years. The fact that Joey might have seen her set her on edge. She had just stopped to pick up some other CDs before heading downstairs. However, the stereo was programmed to sound through the entire house and this - one of her favorite songs came on - and she thought she might work out a little of that nervousness that had been present since Joey lifted her off the ladder earlier that day. She never expected him to search her out. Or to see her.  
  
He shrugged. "A few minutes."  
  
Joey watched her pick up a few CDS from the enormous collection of music lining one corner before leading him out of the ballroom-turned dance studio. Until he'd seen her dancing, Joey hadn't realized she had such talent. He remembered she liked to dance; had even taken lessons. All the Boscorelli children, Jackson included, had taken dance classes. "I see you've kept up the dancing. You're good."  
  
Grace frowned at him. She had tried to give it up, thinking it was something to be left with her childhood. She loved it though. The interpretation of music, reflecting one person's thoughts and feelings at any given time: playful, joyous, enticing, angry, graceful. The music may be the same but the interpretation never was. "I didn't 'keep it up' as you put it. I just dance for exercise sometimes."  
  
"Sure," he snorted, following her down the hall. "And I do my job for the big paycheck."  
  
Grace got the distinct feeling he was laughing at her. She never could lie. But the truth was even harder for her to understand. Had she really been so eager to please? Had she really felt such desperation to be someone else's vision of ideal? How had she lost herself?  
  
"I mean it, Grace. You're good."  
  
He wasn't teasing her or making snide remarks. Or insinuating she be anything than what she was. He wasn't looking at her differently even though he knew, it seemed, everything about her. "Thank you."  
  
Feeling gracious for his help, Grace offered dinner to Joey in thanks for his help. Sitting at the island in the kitchen, Joey finally had the chance to ask her about the huge, old house.  
  
"It was Mrs. Grayson's," she explained setting out plates as they waited for the pizza to arrive. "It was built at the turn of the 20th century. It was very modern at the time - indoor plumbing, electric lights. Of course, the kitchen was updated and the electric and plumbing modernized over the years. It's very rare that you find a home in it's original state like this; usually they've been demolished or turned into apartments."  
  
"But how did you're family end up with it?" he asked, knowing it was really none of his business but he was curious. "I mean working for the city doesn't exactly bring in the big bucks."  
  
Setting out glasses and utensils, Grace continued, "Oh, we're really very blessed there. You see, the home was always in the Grayson family, passed down for generations. And the Grayson family was very, very wealthy. The Depression was really nothing for them. Anyway,-"  
  
"So, you all got in good with Mrs. Grayson and got the house," Joey stated firmly.  
  
Grace grinned. "Well, I suppose you could put it that way. Mrs. Grayson - Elenor Grayson -didn't have any living relatives to leave the house to when she passed. She and MaMa attended church together when MaMa first came to the city. Mrs. Grayson and MaMa formed an attachment, I guess you could say. MaMa loved Mrs. Grayson - we all did. We didn't know she was leaving her estate to us. So, when MaMa and Daddy were notified, they initially denied taking the estate. They only did it when they found out that the house would be demolished if we didn't take it - that was a stipulation in the will. It was after the papers were signed that we were told that there was a trust to take care of the expense of upkeep or changes that would need to be done. As long as the house stayed in the family, the house is ours at basically no expense."  
  
"So you basically had your home given to you?" Joe asked, trying to comprehend the tale she'd just told.  
  
Hearing the doorbell, she picked up the money from the counter. "I guess if you want to look at it like that. MaMa said we were outgrowing the apartment after Jackson came, so it was really God providing for us."  
  
Jaoe was still shaking his head at the matter-of-fact attitude Grace portrayed at her tale when she returned with the pizza. Gathering the dishes she set out earlier, he followed her through another door to another room. This one not so authentically correct to the time period of the house as the other rooms. The family room. A fluffy sectional sofa sat against one wall facing a large television/entertainment center. A small wet bar had been installed to his left.  
  
"I thought you might be more comfortable in here," she said, turning on a lamp. "The dining room is kind of formal."  
  
Setting the dishes down on the coffee table, next to the pizza, Joe made himself comfortable a suitable distance from Grace.  
  
She flipped on the television, finding a classic movie to occupy them while they ate.  
  
Over the next few hours, they devoured the pizza and watched the Titanic sink - again. Joe wasn't sure how it happened but Grace ended up stretched out on the sofa under a chenille throw - she had finally gotten cold. Her head, cushioned by a small throw pillow, resting on his lap. She was sound asleep.  
  
Unwilling to wake her just yet, Joe rested his head against the back of the sofa, reflecting on the Grace he'd seen today. She was obstinate, stubborn and so very vulnerable about something. She was downright loveable.  
  
****************************  
  
Grace became aware of the incredible heat under her cheek and not really a morning person, she was hesitant to open her eyes and face the day. The sound of a second breath brought her to full consciousness to see Joey Doherty's full profile, entirely too close to her face. She was partially laying on his chest, his arm wrapped around her comfortably. Too comfortably.  
  
She thought she could manage to extricate herself from his embrace without waking him and head to her room. It briefly crossed her mind what she must look like, maybe she would have time to make herself presentable - somewhat. And get him out of the house.  
  
"Grace?"  
  
She hesitated, hearing his sleep-laden voice calling to her. She half- turned.  
  
"Be right back. There's a bath just past the library if you -" she broke off, realizing what she was saying and how it sounded, and fled before he responded.  
  
It occurred to her halfway up the back staircase, to look down and check her state of dress. She had slept soundly last night. She didn't remember dropping off. Joey Doherty wouldn't dare -? No. He wouldn't take advantage of her, that much she knew.  
  
She ran a brush through her disheveled hair and brushed her teeth and hurried back downstairs. She would have to shower later - after Joey was gone. She couldn't look any worse than what he'd already seen. What was she supposed to say? She'd spent the night with Joey Doherty! Well, not *spent* the night but spent the night with him. This was a mess.  
  
She looked around the kitchen, spying the coffee pot next to the sink. Coffee! She thought. She needed coffee! She needed a lot more than coffee - she needed -  
  
"Morning."  
  
She whirled at his soft-spoken greeting. And stared.  
  
Evidently, fifteen minutes was more than enough time for Joey Doherty to shower and look - , Grace swallowed to moisten her dry throat. - yummy. Bare chested, barefoot, bark hair wet and curling and clad in jeans, he leaned against the island where they had talked the night before, arms crossed in front of him.  
  
"Morning," she murmured, turning back to the task at hand. Coffee, she thought, they needed coffee. She tried to separate the coffee filters without success.  
  
"Grace."  
  
She felt him close behind her and refused to turn. This was a situation she thought she'd never find herself in. What was she supposed to say?  
  
"Grace," he repeated, physically turning her around to face him, keeping his hands on her hips. She still wore the satin pyjamas she'd changed into last night. "Nothing happened."  
  
She nodded, heart pounding, unable to make eye contact. He was standing mere inches from her. The slightest movement would bring them into bodily contact. "I know."  
  
"Then why won't you look at me?" He persisted, nudging her chin up, forcing her dark eyes to meet his gaze.  
  
It was the undoing. Of both of them.  
  
Joe saw the anticipation in her eyes. Her lips parted either in unconscious invitation or because her breath increased or both. He felt the coolness of her hands come up between them as if to push him away instead of just lightly resting on his bare chest.  
  
Grace looked at where her hands had come to rest on his chest. She had done it initially to keep some distance between them. What she hadn't counted on was the heat that emanated from his body. His touching her had been stupid; she felt vividly where his hands rested on her hips. Her touching him had been even more stupid. She met his gaze again.  
  
He was going to kiss her, she thought frantically. Even more surprising for her was the realization that she wanted him to. So very much.  
  
He lowered his head and ever so lightly brushed his lips against her lips. Encouraged when her head tilted back, eyes closing, he tempted her again with a feather light kiss. Her head fell further back and a sigh of frustration sounded from the back of her throat when he pulled back slightly. Now was not the time to do this. However much he wanted to. He made to straighten and pull away.  
  
Grace, frustrated with his teasing and damning the consequences for the moment, snaked a hand around his neck firmly bringing his lips to hers.  
  
Neither heard the door open.  
  
"What the hell is going on?" 


	4. Chapter 4

1It's been awhile - my Gracie muse left on an extended vacation - she's only recently returned for short visits. Most of these characters still aren't mine - just borrowing them for a bit of fun.

CHAPTER 7

They separated like they'd been doused with ice water.

"Lillian Grace, you care to answer me?"

Grace, pale with surprise, glanced at Joe before meeting her father's thunderous expression. She knew what it looked like - her dressed in satin pyjamas, he clad only in jeans, fresh from a shower. "Daddy-"

"Bosco," Joe interrupted. He had no idea what he was going to say. He had a pretty good idea of the kind of scene he and Grace portrayed. And the fact that she'd lost all color when she heard Bosco's voice urged him to intervene.

"You stay out of this," he ordered and turned his attention back to his daughter. "Lillian Grace?"

Grace cringed. Her father's use of her full name conveyed the anger he was managing to reign in. She hadn't thought they would be back until late afternoon. But then, she hadn't thought much past what to say to Joey after - well - after.

"Bosco, what are you yelling about?"

Grace cringed even more at the sound of her mother's voice just moments before she appeared beside her husband.

"Morning, Joe. Grace, dear," Sophie greeted as if finding this particular scene in her kitchen was an everyday occurrence and perfectly normal.

"I'm waitin', Grace," Bosco repeated stubbornly. He wasn't about to leave his baby girl alone with Doherty's kid. Like father, like son in his opinion. He'd conveniently forgotten his own escapades before meeting his wife.

"Daddy," Grace tried again, getting no further than the first time before her siblings, Belle in the lead, appeared behind her parents.

"What's goin' on?" Belle asked, peering over her parent's shoulders. The last thing she expected to see were the pair before her, her sister looking very much like she'd been caught with her hand in the cookie jar. "Oh."

"Take your brother and sisters upstairs," Bosco ordered, keeping his gaze on Grace and Joe.

Belle knew that tone and made a hasty retreat, siblings in tow. She knew when to test her father's patience. This wasn't the time.

Again, Grace tried to explain. "It's not what it looks like. I-we-" she stammered before trying again. "I know you think-"

"Grace, dear, stop," Sophie interrupted. She knew her daughter. Whatever the reason Joe Doherty was at their home, looking as if he'd just been interrupted dressing, it was perfectly innocent, she was sure. She knew her daughter. "You don't owe us any explanations."

"The hell she doesn't!" Bosco roared, continuing. "I'm not old enough to be 'Grandpa' and-

"DADDY!" Grace squealed, mortified that he would even suggest that she would - well -

that she - and in front of Joey, who was looking as if he were going to collapse from trying not to laugh so hard.

Grace failed to see the humor that was so evident to him.

Sophie pulled at her husband's arm, leading him from the kitchen. She was none to pleased with Bosco's outburst at the moment. Of all their children, Grace was the most modest of them. "C'mon Bosco. Grace, we'll let to get back to what you were doing."

Her cheeks burned as her parents left them alone. No way was she going back to - to - _that_.

Once he'd gotten past the surprise, Joe had found the whole scene slightly humorous. You'd think Bosco had caught them going at it on the kitchen table the way he was carrying on. Besides, Joe wondered if Bosco had noticed the death grip his daughter had had on his neck. He thought it best not to mention it to Grace. She looked pathetic - like she'd managed to disappoint her parents in every way possible.

He instantly felt bad about deriving pleasure from the situation. "Hey, you okay?"

Not trusting her voice not to tremble, she nodded, staring at a spot just over his shoulder.

"Gracie," he coaxed, forcing eye contact. "You did nothing wrong-."

"I think you better go," she said suddenly.

Joe straightened, blinking in confusion. She could change the subject at any given moment without warning. Must be a female thing. "We're not going to talk about what just happened?"

"No." Her voice held a note of finality. She would never mention it again. It had been a moment of pure insanity. Pure stupidity.

Joe sighed. The walls were back up. Maybe it was best he left. Give her a little space; let Bosco calm down. He quickly finished dressing and followed Grace to the door.

Feeling playful and wanting to see her smile before he left, he dropped a kiss on her lips. Grinning, he whispered, "Do me a favor?"

A frown knit her brow in response. What know?

He glanced at her bare feet, peeking out from the satin ruffle at the hem of her pyjama pants. "Put some socks on; you're going to get sick."

A small smile broke. It had become sort of a joke between them.

"I don't get sick," she called after him, closing the door behind him.


	5. Chapter 5

CHAPTER 8

"I'm s-i-i-i-i-i-i-ck," Grace whined to her mother two weeks later.

Sophie smiled sympathetically at her eldest child when she crawled on the couch to lay her head in her mother's lap seeking maternal sympathy. Grace had never been a good sick person. On the rare occasions she had gotten sick, it was a trial in patience for the Boscorelli household. Usually, Sophie put her to bed and the rest of the family kept their distance. Grace was one of those people who, when ill, periodically wanted someone to cluck over her but ultimately wanted to be left alone.

This time was no different - except for the illness. Grace had started sneezing and coughing a few days after the incident with Joe in the kitchen. The whole household knew what was coming and therefore kept their distance from Grace. The cold, in turn developed into a major sinus infection. Sophie had ordered Grace to the doctor and then to bed until further notice. Grace didn't argue.

He knocked quietly once and peeked inside. Sophie had said she was awake. She lay snuggled in the mounds of pillows on her bed, sleeping. Her complexion was pale except for the rosy tinge on her cheeks and nose. Moving closer, he could hear her labored breathing from the sinus infection. He smirked and kept the 'I told you so.' to himself. He didn't think Grace would appreciate the comment.

Sensing someone in the room, Grace forced her eyes open through all the drugs she'd taken to find the man she least wanted to see standing next to her bed.

"Did Belle send you up here?" She croaked. Belle had been nagging her for details of what had become known as 'the kitchen incident'.

"No," he answered softly. "Your mother told me to come up."

Her eyes closed and he thought she'd drifted back to sleep until he heard her ask, "What do you want?" before grabbing a tissue from the box on her night stand and launching into a sneezing fit.

Head throbbing and eyes watering, Grace fell back against the sea of pillows behind her, breathing heavily from the exertion, waiting for his answer.

"I heard you were sick," he said, weakly, feeling bad for his earlier thought. She obviously felt lousy.

"And what?" You thought I was up for a good argument?" Grace dropped the tissue in the trash can next to the bed before reaching for another.

"I didn't come for a fight," he said. "Belle said you were sick and I wanted to see how you were doing."

"So Belle let you in," Grace stated. She should have known. Belle never could mind her own business.

"No," he corrected, repeating, "Your mother let me in."

"MaMa?" She repeated, staring at him glassy-eyed. "But why?"

It had to be the drugs, Joey thought. Gracie wasn't usually this dense. "Your mother told me to come up because I came to see you."

Gracie blinked, fighting sleep. Heavens, even blinking hurt. Everything hurt. Thinking hurt. Either Joey was talking really slow or the last dose of drugs just kicked in. Whatever it was, she was having a really hard time understanding him. Why was he here?

Joe noticed the struggle she was having to keep her eyes open and decided it was time for him to leave. She had given up her struggle to remain awake and appeared so fragile in sleep. Appeared was the key word there. He had a feeling Grace was stronger than anyone gave her credit for.

"Was she awake?" Sophie asked, when he reached the entry.

"Uh, yeah, a little," he answered. "She went back to sleep."

"It's the drugs," Sophie explained. "Gracie doesn't react well to drugs, I'm afraid."

_Well, that explained a little_, Joe thought, glancing at his watch. "I need to get going or I'll be late."

Sophie walked him to the door. "Why don't you come by in a few days; she'll be off her medication by then."

Joe looked around the empty room. Belle said she was awake but Sophie wasn't allowing her out of bed for a few days. He started to leave when the bathroom door opened.

She didn't see him right away. Weakened, she was just trying to make it to back to bed.

"Hello."

A sharp intake gave away the fact that he'd clearly startled her.

"Sorry," he apologized, watching her hurry to her bed and slip her arms into a plum colored satin bed jacket before climbing the three steps up to her bed.

"How did you get up here?" she asked annoyed, arranging the blankets over her bare legs.

Joe knew she didn't realize her mortified reaction to finding him in her bedroom and subsequent dash to the bed had only drawn his attention to the appearance she was trying to cover.

The woman could have appeared in a spread for a Victoria's Secret layout. Not one of the fun-in-the-sun outdoorsy spreads.

No, Grace was definitely ready for the other kind.

Clad in deep plum colored satin and lace, and lounging in her massive antique mahogany tester bed, Gracie was ready to be treasured. And more.

"How did you get up here?" she repeated.

Joe turned his thoughts away from Grace in satin and lace. "Your mom let me in."

Grace rearranged the pillows at her back. "Why are you here?"

No one could ever accuse Grace of beating around the bush. At least with him. "Can't I visit a sick friend?"

A confused frown matted her brow. "I didn't know we were friends."

Shoving his hands deeper in his pockets, he shifted his stance. "I'd like to be."

"But we don't even like each other!" she blurted.

"Why would you say that? We hardly know each other," he said, stepping closer to her bed.

Grace nervously played with the needlepoint laying next to her on the bed. "You were always mean to me."

Knowing she was referring to their childhood, Joe simply remarked as if to explain everything, "I was a kid, Grace."

Wide-eyed, Grace stared in surprise. "But why would you do that?"

"Grace, I was kid! I don't know why!" Joe didn't try to hold back his disbelief. She really was naive.

"That doesn't make sense," she said, more to herself than Joe.

"Grace, it doesn't have to make sense," he said, grinning.

She got the distinct feeling he was laughing at her.

"I really did come to see if you were feeling better and to give you these," He said sobering the air between them. He pulled something from his pocket. "Ian had these from his girlfriend's boss or something. Anyway, I ended up with them and Belle said you wanted to go and well, I thought you could use them. And - well - here," he finished stupidly, handing her the white slips of paper before stepping back.

Hesitantly, Grace took the tickets. Reading them she felt her heart pick up in excitement. "This is a sold out concert - how?"

He shrugged. "Like I said - Ian's girlfriend or something."

Gracie stared back in surprise.

Uncomfortable, Joe began backing toward the door. "I'd better get going and let you rest. See ya around."

His hand was on the doorknob when he heard her voice.

"Joey."

He grinned. Only Grace and his mother still referred to him as 'Joey'. He turned.

"Thank you." She was still holding the white slips of paper as if it were some valuable antique document in danger of disintegrating if handled too much.

"Would you like to go?" She asked softly, adding, "If you don't have plans."

It was clear she was nervous about his answer. "Love to. I'll call you in a few days."

It wasn't until he was standing on the street that Joe realized he had no idea who or what he was going to see with the Gracie.

And then decided it really didn't matter. He was finally going out with Grace.

Chapter 9

"Grace, dear, you had a delivery today."

"Of what?" She didn't remember ordering anything and the little bit of mail she did receive really didn't constitute as a 'delivery'.

"I left it on the dining room table for you," Sophie answered, following her daughter. She had a feeling who the lilies were from but remained silent. She'd have her answer soon enough.

Grace stared at the lilies a moment before pulling the card out. She didn't need to look to know who they were from - only one person outside her family would know her favorite flower was a lily - or have sent them for that matter.

'Thank you, Lily-Grace' he'd signed it simply 'Joe'. Looking back at the mauve colored lilies, Grace felt her temper rise. Why did he have to blow the whole evening out of proportion? They'd had a good time at the concert. Joe had even admitted he enjoyed the music - not what he'd normally listen to but one should 'always broaden one's horizons;' he'd said as he paid for the artist's latest cd.

She thought they'd decided to remain friends, not romantically-involved-wanting-more friends. He was trying to push her into something she was ready for and really wasn't sure she wanted more either.

Sophie watched her eldest child's countenance. She was right. The lilies were from Joe Doherty. And although it was useless, Sophie made the attempt to lower Grace's blood pressure. "It was sweet of Joe to send the lilies."

Grace looked at the arrangement as if it were poison. "I don't want them."

"Grace, it's only flowers," Sophie pointed out.

"Why did he send them? What's he want?"

"Grace dear, it's just his way of saying he enjoyed your company; it doesn't have to mean anything."

"I don't want him buying me things," she insisted before changing the subject. "I'm not very hungry, excuse me."

Sophie watched her eldest hurry through the kitchen and up the back stairs, pained that she could do nothing to lessen the burden that Gracie refused to share. So much alike at that age, Sophie knew the trouble that Grace experienced when it came to compliments and gift giving - she knew the feeling of indebtedness and unworthiness that Grace was struggling with because she herself had also overcome the same feelings.

Spying the flowers, Sophie moved them to the buffet in hopes that Grace would return for them once she had calmed down.

Grace paced her room. Part of her seethed at what Joe had done; part of her was very flattered that he'd remembered. All of her was frightened beyond logical thought. She liked Joe - cared for him even - but the idea of more than friends sent her to the verge of a panic attack. Her heart would race, she'd break out in a cold sweat, breathing became a concentrated effort and all reason left her. And she couldn't understand the reaction, much less explain it to anyone else so she struggled with it in silence - knowing she'd have to deal with it at some point.

Curling up on her bed, Grace mentally prepared herself for what was to come - Joe would tire of her mood swings - her indecisiveness - her fears - and move along to the next woman. Grace would take full responsibility for the mess that was left behind because - well - she had let the situation get out of control.

When would she learn?

Grace refused to discuss Joey's gift with anyone. She would prefer to pretend it didn't happen although the arrangement appeared on her dresser late the next morning. She ignored them until they dies and then threw the withered remains in the trash along with the vase and card.

No evidence she'd ever received anything.

Now she just had to tell Joe not to do it again. She could handle the friendly 'hey-how-you-doin'-haven't-seen-you-for-awhile' hugs but it ended there. She thought she'd made that clear before the lilies fiasco. She guessed she was wrong.

Of course, it would be easier to talk to Joe if she didn't avoid any moment where she might encounter him. She supposed she thought if she avoided him, he'd forget about her and move on. At least that's what a small part of her hoped.

Adjusting the heavy bag on his shoulder, Joe scanned the sidewalk for any sign of Grace. He missed her.

"She's probably finishing up at choir practice," Belle informed him from the door.

"Excuse me?" Joe wasn't sure he'd heard correctly.

"She's probably finishing up at choir practice," Belle repeated enunciating each word carefully.

"Like at a church?" Joe asked stupidly.

"Yeah, Joe - like at the church we've attended since birth." Belle knew she and her family were in the minority when it came to their faith. Most people only attended church for Christmas, Easter, deaths, weddings or christening. The Boscorelli family attended every Sunday as well as attending many church sponsored activities. "You should head over - she'd be done by the time you get there."

At first, she thought she was imagining things. Joe had quietly come in and sat through the last fifteen minutes of rehearsal. Now she knew better.

What was he doing here? She thought, meeting him halfway down the center aisle. "Hi."

"Hi," he answered sticking a hand in his jean pocket, and leaning against the end of a pew. "You all sound great."

Grace seriously doubted Joey had sought her out to discuss how the church choir sounded. "What are you doing here?"

"I wanted to talk to you," Joey shifted his stance, drawing attention to his unease. "Want to -"

"Grace - you ready to run through this?"

Grace turned to the voice - the director - Joe thought - and gave the universal 'in a minute' signal - holding up her index finger before turning back to Joe. "Um - they're waiting on me -"

"Go ahead - finish up - I'll wait til you're done," Joe took a sear - a sure sign he wasn't going anywhere until he got what he came for.

_Oh goody_, Grace thought sarcastically making her way to the raised platform. _He's going to wait - joy of my day._

Curious, Joe watched as she gave some instruction to some younger men as she slipped off her shoes, indicating to some chairs and the pulpit, which were immediately moved.

"Anytime Dan," she said, kneeling face-down on the floor as the lights dimmed.

It was the cueing of the music that clued Joe in to what was happening: Grace was rehearsing a dance performance. Intrigued, Joe sat back to watch. This was something he didn't get to see often.

It was interesting - beginning with the music. The words were familiar - Amazing Grace - or close to it. The music, however, was far from the traditional hymn tune. This music was almost a driving rock anthem reminiscent of the old heavy metal ballads his dad listened to as a teenager but this music became a strange sort of softness when combined with the sacred words and the balletic movements used by Grace to the interpret the piece.

He watched intently, It was clear to anyone watching that Grace held a special for gift for bringing sight to music.

She ended in the same pose in which she began. The building was silent a moment before filling with sparse applause from those remaining few.

"Looks great, Grace. You need anything else before Sunday?" Dan asked from somewhere behind and overhead.

Grace slipped on her shoes calling back that everything was fine, she'd see him early Sunday and approached Joe.

"What?" She asked referring to his dumbfounded expression.

"You," he stuttered. "That was - you are - wow."

"Stop it," she said brushing past him. Compliments always set her on edge.

"Wait - Grace -"

She stopped at the door. "What did you want anyway?"

"Why are you avoiding me?" he asked, remembering why he sought her out.

That caught her off guard. She'd never expected Joe to persist in whatever it was they were doing - or trying not to do.

"I'm not," she lied, feeling the heat rise up her neck.

Joe took a step back, followed by another.

"What are you doing?"

"I don't want to be too close when the lightening hits," Joe said glancing up before adding, "You're a terrible liar, Grace."

She glared at him silently.

"Did you like the lilies?" he asked realizing she was throwing up the walls again.

She wasn't going to give him any encouragement. "They were nice."

"But did you like them?" He took a step closer. A little too close. Joe wasn't really looking for an answer to whether or not she liked the flowers, she knew she did even if she refused to admit it. He wanted to know if Grace had accepted that he wasn't going anywhere - he wanted her.

He wasn't going to let her leave, she realized. She might as well get the nasty scene she'd hoped to avoid over with. She stuck her hands in her pockets and focused on some point on his jacket.

"I don't want you giving me things," she said quietly.

Joe stared at her silently. "Grace, it was only flowers."

"I don't care - I don't want anyone buying me things."

"But if I want to -" he argued.

"I can't take it when it doesn't work out, okay?" She burst out before hurrying down the street to catch her bus.

Joe let her go. There would be other times.


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: This little blurb came into my head and absolutely refused to leave until I agreed to post it somewhere. Trouble was it didn't seem to work on its own, thus it became a little interlude in Gracie's story and seems to be the perfect place - hope you enjoy.

By the way, I'm still waiting for my Gracie muse to return from its sabbatical cause I really don't like leaving things unfinished...

"Olivia!"

"Can I come in?" Her blue eyes pleaded with Sophie.

Stepping back to allow her entry, Sophie searched the young woman's expression. "Is something-"

"Tell me about my mother."

Caught off guard, Sophie paused in closing the massive oak door. "Olivia, dear, I think you-"

"Don't tell me to talk to Daddy or Grandma or Kim or anybody else. They just make me feel guilty for asking! It's bad enough that I can depress an entire room just by walking through it! I just want to know why," she argued. "Was she that much of a saint? If she was so great, why isn't she here!"

Sophie felt her heart breaking for the young woman before her. Olivia had never asked much about Alex except every once in a while, she would ask what her mother had been like, if she liked something that Olivia did. Each time she was given essentially the same answers. Over the years, Sophie had advised Ty that this day would come but the pain of his wife's death was too much for him and the subject was changed.

"Please," she begged, taking Sophie's silence as a denial to her request.

It was time, Sophie decided. She would deal with the wrath of Ty later. Olivia deserved to know her mother. And Alex deserved to have her wishes honored. Enough time had passed. "Come with me, dear."

Sophie led her to the library. Leaving Olivia on the settee, she went to one of the many book-lined shelves. Pulling a large, leather scrapbook from one of the shelves, she handed it to Olivia, explaining, "Your father doesn't know about this."

Olivia took the heavy volume silently and laid it on her lap carefully, as if she feared what it contained.

"Open it," Sophie prodded gently, sitting next to her.

She was finally getting answers. Taking a deep breath to slow her pounding heart, Olivia opened the cover.

It was a picture of her mother. Very different than the one at the firehouse which reflected a woman whose piercing gaze and proud stance dared anything to do her harm.

Gazing at some point in the distance, she appeared oblivious to the camera. A slight smile curved her lips; her eyes, as blue as Olivia's, were soft - dreamy looking.

Sometimes she thought she saw those eyes in her dreams.

"She was thinking of you," Sophie said quietly, glancing at the photo. "She loved you very much; still does, I imagine."

Olivia nodded, wiping the tears she had not bothered to control. "When was this taken?"

Sophie smiled at the memory. "The day she found out she was expecting you. She hadn't even told Ty yet. I was visiting Mrs. Grayson and had brought the children, Grace, Belle and Taylor, over and we were sitting in the back. I was taking some pictures of Belle with Mrs. Grayson. I hadn't heard Alex say much - not that she ever did - but I turned around to say something - and she was sitting just as you see her. She had such a peace about her that I just pointed, zoomed and shot the photo without her realizing it. When she saw it, I asked what she had been thinking. She had smiled again just like she did in that picture, and said, 'My little girl'. I won't lie - your appearance surprised her just as much as your brother's did but she loved both of you."

Olivia turned the page in the book. Her Mom and Dad's wedding; exchanging vows, rings and the kiss. At the outdoor reception, Taylor, barely a year old, dressed in knickers and a white shirt, giving his mommy, who was seated on a blanket with Daddy, a flower. His daddy watching his son with pride.

"She asked me to make her dress," Sophie commented, glancing at the picture. "Accommodate you and her simple taste, she'd said. We were expecting together, you know. Of course, you know. You and Jackson are the same age and, of course, Belle and Taylor. Anyway, it was held right out back, you didn't know that, did you? It was a simple wedding - well - as simple as it could be with the guys from the 5-5 in attendance. They made such a racket that day with all the sirens from the engines and squads that were driven by - it's a wonder the neighbors didn't demand we be arrested for disturbing the peace."

Olivia smiled at the thought of the scene.

"But then," Sophie, remembering the day and laughing, continued. "That would have been difficult considering the police were in on disturbing the peace!"

She turned the page. Pictures of Alex in various stages of pregnancy - at home, at the firehouse - proudly showing off her expanding middle. Some humorous, some serene. Alex with Ty and Taylor; Alex with Sophie, equally pregnant, plates of food balanced on their middles; Alex pushing Taylor on the swings at a playground. Alex in the hospital proudly showing off her baby girl.

Studying the pictures, committing them to memory, Olivia saw her mother. Not just a woman she, herself, resembled. Her mother had a sense of humor and liked to laugh. Her mother was also stubborn, just like Olivia was. Her mother had never wanted to leave her children or husband.

Sliding the doors closed, Sophie quietly left the girl to herself. Everything was in the book. She would find it. Just as Alex wanted.

Olivia didn't notice Sophie's absence. Turning the page again, she was faced with newspaper clippings, all dated within days of each other. All reporting of a car chase, a collision, and an explosion resulting the injury of a New York City fireman and the death of a New York City paramedic, essentially reading: New York paramedic Alexandra Taylor-Davis was killed when a car she was on top of, trying to assist some trapped injured in a second car, exploded without warning. Taylor-Davis was thrown from the force of the explosion and died almost instantly on the scene.

And then some articles would mention Lieutenant Johnson, who'd been badly burned. Usually some mention would be made about Grandpa Angus being killed on September 11 and Alex's involvement in that. Then her obituary listing those surviving Alex.

Olivia read each one. Twice. Three times. And she mourned.

She turned the page, unable to bear the horrific newspaper articles.

An envelope bearing her name, slid out. Olivia didn't recognize the handwriting. Carefully she pulled out the paper inside and began reading. It was dated one month after her birth.

My darling baby Olivia:

Sophie has done what I've requested. I prayed you would never have to read this but since you are, it is because I am no longer with you. I never wanted to leave you but some choices are already made for us.

I go back to work in a few weeks. I'm a firefighter, as I'm sure you know by now and I'm sure I died in the line. And if I didn't then it was a bad twist. Anyway, your grandfather, my Dad, was also a firefighter. He was the best and I looked up to him. I couldn't wait to be a firefighter just like him. At times, though I wonder if I had made the right decision but then something would happen and I would just know I was doing what I was supposed to. I was helping people.

I tell you all of this because of the risks I take. I want you to know how very much I love you, your daddy and your brother. I can't ignore my calling in life. One day, you'll know what I mean by that.

I watch you sleeping. Daddy says you look like me but I'm hesitant to believe it. You're much more perfect. You certainly have him wrapped around your finger. But then, so am I. My one desire for you is to be happy, my sweet baby- whatever you do. Life is a gift and everything is a blessing.

I have asked Sophie to watch over you and Taylor; she knows the risks I take and she knows my love for you. She sings a song to Grace, Belle and Jackson that she taught me. I sing it to you at bedtime, although, I couldn't carry a tune if it were tied around my neck but I hope you remember it some where in the back of your memory despite how badly its delivered. The words say: 'I see the moon, the moon sees me, the moon sees somebody I want to see; so God bless the moon, and God bless me and God bless the somebody I want to see.'

You'll have to ask Sophie to teach you the tune. I hope you have inherited your Daddy's singing ability. Maybe someday you can sing it to your children and tell them Grandma loves them. Anyway, when you look at the moon, remember that I did also and asked a blessing for you.

I'll be watching.

I love you, Mom

Olivia took a deep breath. Tears coursed down her cheeks. She could hear the off-key singing in her mind. She remembered her mother. The mother who knew that she may go to work one day and not come back. And took those risks to help people who couldn't help themselves.

"Olivia?" Sophie voice, floated from the door.

Quickly, she swiped at the tears. "There was a letter."

Sophie handed her a steaming teacup. "Yes, I know. You were supposed to find it. I promised Alex that you would have it when the time was right."

"Do you know what it said?" She asked.

Handing her a tissue, Sophie smiled at her in that motherly way. "No. But it's probably the same thing that I would write to my children."

"Does Daddy know she left this?"

"No. Alex made me promise not to tell anyone. I think this was her way of making sure that you knew she loved you and didn't want to leave."

Olivia took a sip of the peppermint tea and set it on the side table. "How exactly did she die? All the clippings say is there was an explosion."

Sophie looked out the library window. She had known that was coming. Olivia was one who had to know all the information, not just the vague details. "The explosion severed Alex."

Olivia was glad she had put the teacup on the side table. "You mean -?"

Sophie knew there was no gentle way to put it. "Her body was severed by the explosion."

Olivia blinked, comprehending what Sophie was telling her.

"She lived only seconds. Or so I was told. Kim and Carlos were there. And your Daddy was there. There was nothing to be done. Carlos assured her everything would be all right; your Daddy was in shock. She worried about your Grandma Beth. After losing your Grandpa on September 11, Alex worried about Beth everyday. What Alex didn't realize is how very strong your Grandma Beth is," Sophie looked at Olivia. "You come from a long line of strong women. Anyway, Carlos said that she assured everyone that it didn't hurt and she passed on."

Olivia felt drained. She had what she'd come for. But she also felt a strange peace. Now she knew why her mother's death had affected everyone so. To lose someone so suddenly and violently would send shockwaves over the hardest of individuals. Now she understood better.

She closed the book, handing it back to Sophie. "Thank you."

"That's yours, Olivia," Sophie said referring to the book. "I wanted you to know the Alex we all knew. I promised her you would when she gave me that letter."

Olivia held the leather volume close. It was no longer just a scrapbook but a link to her mother. "You have been a wonderful mother to me."

Sophie wrapped the girl in her arms knowing Olivia faced the memories of Alex and now saw her mother in a new light.


End file.
